Mar 032005

I’m sitting here in my real estate appraisal class half-listening to the instructor and checking out my fellow students as they leave for break. The big hunky guy goes by but it’s too hard to sneak a pic of him with my camera phone. A flip phone is much better for that because you don’t have to hold it up so obviously. He reminds me of the Tim that I dated briefly years ago; something about the voice and height.

The kid in front of me I nicknamed Smokestack back in the Appraisal I class. He has wavy black hair that he brushes straight up on all sides, which is not only unattractive, but makes him look like a bust of Nefertiti I’ve seen in books about Ancient Egypt. His hair is really almost that tall. It’s a shame, because he’s not very ugly, and he’s got a nice little body with a very cute butt. Facially, he reminds me a bit of Matt: same nose and skin tone.

On the other side of the room, one knee crossed over the other and chewing on his pen, is the bohemian Daniel Jackson (of Stargate SG-1) lookalike. Brown wavy hair is brushed back from a center point, falling to the top of his collar and framing little round glasses that should be, but aren’t, wire-rims. A soul patch and short, L-shaped sideburns complete the image of the stock movie character “Artsy Intellectual Who Dies Gruesomely Halfway Through”. Also possessing of an ass worth writing about, but my gaydar is having trouble reading him. I get the same weak echo I get from any given European guy. Must be the long-haired academic look combined with the slip-on shoes. You just know he’s been a protestor before, probably over logging or the WTO.

I’m going to have to go back and re-read the chapter on Income Capitalization and Direct & Yield Capitalization. I zoned out at “capitalization rates can be expressed as a relationship between the annual net operating income and…” This is certainly less difficult than figuring out a complicated network diagram, but it’s still hardly exciting. 40 minutes to go…

I just discovered that hippy dude has a deep, manly, baritone voice. Not too shabby, but still not really my type; not that I have any particular type. HA! He’s got a Sierra Club backpack! Can I pick em out or what?

 Posted by at 10:35 pm
Mar 032005

Last night was roadster_guy‘s mother’s surprise birthday dinner at the Palm restaurant. She didn’t have a clue it was coming, but it took a lot of effort to get her there. When Aaron suggested dinner at the Palm her initial reaction was, “You can’t go to the Palm on Wednesday, you’ve got class that night! You’ve already missed some classes, you can’t miss anymore!” That required a lie that there was no class that night because of mid-winter break. Then she didn’t want to go to the Palm because she never got her birthday certificate for her free lobster, so that required another lie that Aaron’s dad was mailing it to Aaron, who created a fake one on the computer and printed it out. THEN, she didn’t want to go on Wednesday because she knew we were taking her and his dad out to their anniversary dinner on Friday at Assaggi. So we dragged my mom into it and claimed that was the only night she could do dinner because of work. *whew*

So the four of us piled into the Pathfinder with his mom blissfully unaware that 16 people were lying in wait for her, including her husband who flew up early from Dallas, and her daughter who flew in from Maryland. The maitre’d played it up perfectly, asking if we wanted a table or a booth. “A table, please.” He led us to the back and said, “It’s really noisy out here, let’s see if we can find you something a bit quieter.” He put his hand on the banquet room door and gestured to Aaron’s mom. “After you.” She walked in and “SURPRISE!” She was so stunned and happy she cried; it was really cute. She was actually speechless, which is unheard of for her. πŸ˜€ So dinner was outstanding, as usual, and we rolled our stuffed selves home at about 10pm. I was wiped out from the work stress of the last four days and was in bed by 10:45.

 Posted by at 8:21 am
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